


Context

by Lycoria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I dunno what I was going for with this, It happens in the second chapter yall i'm SORRY, Keith is a Graphic Arts Designer, M/M, Modern AU, SHEITH - Freeform, Shiro is one of the founders of a start up, it's a SAN FRANCISCO AU EVERYONE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-20 04:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycoria/pseuds/Lycoria
Summary: Keith never met anyone that didn't tell a lie.Until he met Shiro.In which Keith is a mind-reader with a serious mistrust of people, and Shiro refuses to ever tell anything besides the unabashed truth.Modern AU





	1. The Bold Font

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, I'm writing another thing and it's been less than two weeks. It's a fucking Christmas miracle.

“Hey, Keith?”

The words hung in the air for just a moment, the aftermath wavering and tense. Keith sighed, looking away from his screen and setting down his tablet pen. His co-worker was peering at him from over the cubicle wall, biting her lip and everything.

“I know you’re really busy, but Iverson’s been on my ass about this project.” Said co-worker wound a coil of her perfectly wavy brown hair around an index finger, dejected. “Could you help me out? I’ve been barely getting sleep as is.”

Lie.

The words shimmered in front of his eyes in bright orange, phrases fabricated to make the listener sympathize, coo, and nod with an understanding smile.

“Sure.” Keith answered, as bluntly as possible before swiveling back to his monitor. “Just send me the file.”

She sighed in relief. “Thanks Keith, you’re a _life-saver_.”

_“Now I can take off early for my lunch date. Keith’s such a pushover.”_

Those words, the little internal ones that she thought no one could hear, were sharp and black. Bolded with the thinly disguised truth. As the notification that an email had appeared in his inbox slid into view, the irritation he had held in his throat had already been swallowed. It sat in his stomach, hard and cynical.

By the time he had double clicked the attachment, he could already hear her getting ready to leave, high heels clicking on the worn linoleum floor.

Little thoughts filtered through, like tiny needles jabbing at Keith’s ears.

_“She’s on lunch break already? Does she ever have work?”_

_“God, what a slacker.”_

All she had to do was make a form on a spreadsheet.

Keith was done in minutes.

 

* * *

 

Keith was a mind reader.

Telepathic, if you wanted to get fancy about it.

There wasn’t a time he remembered that he didn’t have it. He spent his sixth year of life on earth exposing the fractured foundation of his parents’ relationship, when he couldn’t understand the words he heard, why some were colorful and sparkly and others were small, cold and dark. Everything he heard he would parrot, and when he exposed the true nature of his father’s long nights at work, his mother naturally walked out, leaving him behind with his father.

“I don’t know how you do it.” He had said to Keith. “But keep your fucking mouth shut.”

It wasn’t an impossible task for Keith. He was young, but he began to understand he heard what others couldn’t, things that he shouldn’t be able to know. So he withdrew, kept to himself, and observed.

Everyone lies. It’s just to what degree they did it. Some people constantly lied to others, while others lied to themselves. The world to Keith was a walking contradiction of neon bright, spoken word and then the callous, little black words that should be reserved to the minds of their thinkers.

By some accident, some mysterious force of the universe, Keith could see and hear them all. There was no point in him trying to figure out why, and so he spent more of his time trying to avoid it all together.

He spent his time speaking minimally to others, and stuck closer to those that he knew at least strove to be honest to others and themselves. The distant father was rarely an issue for him, as he heard plenty enough without hearing actual sounds from his lips. Keith graduated high school, promptly left his childhood home, and finished college without incident.

Now, at twenty-two, he slung his beat-up messenger bag over his shoulder, shuffling out of the office unnoticed. Keith worked at a graphic design company that focused on advertisements located in the San Francisco Bay, where the rent was so high, the thought of endsmeet on his salary frequently made him choke on blood.

Still, he was fresh out of university and the company’s owner had her eye on him, mostly for his get-it-done attitude and his impervious nature to overtime and late nights. He often thought that this was a habit he had formed when he was young and unable to wade through the sea of words, when the outside world overwhelmed him with unfiltered thoughts. He preferred the quiet companionship of the internet and the undisturbed moments just before dawn, when everyone else was asleep.

It was in his middle school year that Keith found he could shut the thoughts out. Only if he really tried. The black words, like permanent trails of ants dotting his vision suddenly ceased, and he was shocked by the deafening silence. Then, he could only do it for a couple seconds or so before it completely exhausted him. Now, he could manage to dampen the noise to just those in his nearest vicinity, something that made the west coast city by the water just a bit more bearable.

Keith never told anyone about his ability. He took his father’s advice to heart and was tight-lipped about his inclination to eavesdrop on the minds of others.

“But that’s fucking awesome.” His college roommate and long time friend Pidge would say if she knew. “It’s like a superhero power.”

Pidge’s words were forest green, dark and simple font. She assumed little of others and herself, and had a knack for saying whatever first came to mind. Keith appreciated that from her, bluntness and all. Besides, tactfulness wasn’t something often attributed to Keith either.

In the end, Superhero he wasn’t. If he had the option, he would trade this so called power away for two cents and some pocket lint.

Though, sometimes, it was useful to him.

Like right now, for instance.

He arrived at the little coffee shop three blocks away, a tiny hole in the wall sort of store that in style as of late, with the weathered exterior and dainty succulents lining the windowsills. Keith opened the front door to a chorus of well trained baristas greeting him, and after scanning the crowd for a moment, he found the face he was looking for.

Scooting past the Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and college students hunched over their laptops, he plopped down at a table where all the wooden chairs were whimsically mismatched. Keith set down his messenger bag, pulled out his phone, and stared directly beside him at his wide-eyed coworker.

Keith wasn’t particularly cruel. He didn’t use his ability to take advantage of others, and most of the information was typically disjointed and irrelevant. The brain was a particularly poor typist and rarely focused on one subject. This afternoon, he felt the right to be a bit petty, so he figured out where his coworker was heading off to for lunch.

He flashed her a brief, smirking smile, and her mouth, which had fallen open, snapped shut, promptly turning back to her date to feign unfamiliarity. Keith got what he wanted from the exchange, and so he pulled out a book and settled in to wait for his sandwich.

The written word was a refuge, an easy place for Keith to ignore the din of thoughts that frequently circled him. If he put his effort into reading the pages of a book, he could easily block out the rest. Keith did though, keep an ear out for the girl serving up food, and wrapped himself in a blissful cocoon of storytelling.

“Excuse me.”

Keith blinked upwards, vaguely annoyed to be interrupted when he had finally buried his nose into a book. Instead of shooting back with his usual, irritated quip, his eyes trained onto a face straight out of a fashion advertisement, clean shaven, chiseled jawline, and strong eyebrows. A thick scar ran across of the man’s face over the bridge of his nose, and a soft forelock of white hair fell on his forehead.

Keith had no idea what to say in response.

_“Oh god, he’s beautiful.”_

The tiny black words of the man standing before him floated in, and Keith’s face flushed, surprised. Here he was, sitting in the popular new coffee house, wearing his red hoodie that very likely had yesterday night’s mustard stains on it. His hair, which he had sworn he would get around to finding a cheap place to cut, was pulled into a ponytail, smudged reading glasses resting on his nose.

“Sorry. What I mean is…” The stranger fumbled, one hand coming up to pull at his olive green beanie. “I saw you were reading Allura’s new book, and she told me that-”

A small downturn of the mouth appeared on Keith’s face. As gorgeous as the man was standing before him, here he was already attempting to name drop Allura Altea. It was expected, because for some reason the man found him attractive, and the first point of contact would of course be a move to impress. He opened his mouth, ready to make a quick exit, cafe sandwich or no.

_“Fuck, now he’s going to think I’m just trying to pretend Allura’s my friend. What am I thinking?”_

“Wait.” Suddenly, the stranger looked flustered, but determined. “That came out wrong. Allura Altea’s my roommate-”

Keith’s eyes glazed over. More excuses to get himself out of his mess, yet again, nothing but...

The words before him were in a simple black font. His eyes snapped back towards the man, disbelief overcoming him in waves. He stood in front of Keith’s table, face red with embarrassment as he continued to talk, every letter coming out in the plainest black.

Pidge’s words were a dark, rich green. When she felt particularly insecure, they were sharp and bright, concealing her truest thoughts. The words Lance tended to speak were neon and blue, larger than life. Every once in awhile, when it was needed the most, they took on a navy hue, softened and thinned. Hunk’s wavered between a rich amber and golden sand, his apprehension of vulnerability preventing him from voicing his most unfiltered thoughts.

Never had he seen black.

“-Either way, she’s been worried about how people would receive her newest work. It was different from her usual style, so I thought maybe I would ask what you thought of it.”

The man looked vaguely out of breath, still clutching his take-out cup of coffee, the hesitant smile on his face drooping with every passing second in silence.

_“Maybe it’s time to leave, since the ground isn’t going to open up and swallow me whole.”_

“Hold on.” Keith said, abruptly standing and scooting around the table. He gestured towards the seat beside him.

His curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he had to know who this faultlessly honest, painfully handsome human being was.

“You can sit down and we can talk about it. I mean, if you have the time.” He tugged nervously at his hoodie, ears growing hot.

_“Yeah, I’d like that.”_

The brightest grin appeared on his face, dazing Keith as he set his coffee down on the table.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

His name was Takashi Shirogane, but he preferred to be called Shiro, Keith was told.

They spent Keith’s lunch break together, chatting about Allura Altea’s novels, how she had approached the new one with a concept that was closer and more personal than ever before.

Keith realized that must have been the reason for the change. While her words often shimmered a metallic rose, this time they were a richer, ruddier color.

He then told Shiro that she had nothing to worry about, the book was great, the words still sounded like her. More importantly, he felt he had to watch Shiro closely, to investigate the impossibility that was a human that consistently told the truth.

From the way he sipped his coffee, to the drumming of his fingers against the table when he seemed particularly excited, Keith observed it all. Shiro was black and white, solid. Every word, every phrase he spoke was honest, no brightly colored lights, no cryptically flourished letters. Keith was enraptured.

“Well... I should be heading back to work.” Shiro said after a glance at his phone.

Keith also checked the time, wincing at the clock on the wall. “I should go too.”

They lapsed into silence, the sounds of the cafe overtaking them with clinks of white coffee cups and the rhythmic tap of fingers on the keyboard. Somewhere on the other side, a laugh rang out bright neon pink, exaggerated with the emotion called infatuation.

When he turned back to look at Shiro, he realized that Shiro was gazing at him, expression unreadable. Then he leaned across the table, hovering inches away from Keith’s face. His mind spun, bewildered until he saw Shiro tug his untouched napkin from underneath his empty plate.

Ten numbers formed above Shiro’s head as he pulled a ballpoint pen from his coat pocket. After a moment of scribbling, he slid the napkin back towards Keith.

“That’s um… That’s my number, if you ever want to talk again.” He mumbled sheepishly

Gingerly, Keith took the phone number into his hands, uncomprehending as he stared at it.

“It was fun talking to you.” A crooked grin rested on his face, stabbing Keith straight in the heart. “I’ve never met someone so… refreshingly direct.”

“Me too.” Keith heard himself blurting out, instantly. “The fun part, and the direct part too.”

“Coming from you, I know you really mean it.” Shiro responded in a low murmur.

There again was no pretense, no hidden agenda. The words lay where they fell, simple and black.

Shiro stood, the wooden chair scraping the floor beneath him. “Text me when you’re free then? Maybe I could convince Allura to meet you, help make her feel less uneasy about her newest work.”

“Y-yeah.”

With a wave, he turned to exit the coffee shop, leaving Keith to untangle his thoughts. An unexpected pang of disappointment lodged itself in his chest at Shiro’s departure. It figures, he reassured himself, Shiro was a rare person to meet, one in a million. Maybe even once in a lifetime.

Quickly he added the new number into his phone, finger hovering over the message button before he finally shut his phone off and shoved it into his pocket. Messaging Shiro seconds after he had just stepped out seemed pathetic even for Keith, and so he filed it away for a challenge to tackle that night after work.

Out in the warm sunlight of the mild San Francisco spring, he thought that maybe he had to thank his coworker for her stupid spreadsheet after all.

 

* * *

 

Under the soft lighting of Keith’s poorly lit living room, the cold, blue glow of his cellphone alerted him of a message. He leaned over to pluck his phone from the coffee table, admittedly his heart beating just a little faster.

[New Message from Shiro]

It wasn’t like Keith was waiting, or anything.

But the messages had become a frequent thing between the two of them since they met, three weeks ago. They hadn’t seen each other since then, being that Shiro was endlessly busy as a founder of a start-up, and Keith wasn’t ready to confess that he had too much time on his hands outside of his job.

It had taken him over a week to get the guts to text Shiro, 3am sleepless nights turned into a routine of staring at his contact page. In the end he had finally given in at the turning of the last page of Allura’s novel. The delight he felt when Shiro replied almost instantly burned a hole through his chest.

[Hey Keith, hope you’ve been doing well today. I have a sudden proposition.]

What did that even mean? Keith smiled a little to himself. Shiro wrote texts like he did his essays in university, he felt sure of.

It struck him that maybe he was becoming just a little bit too attached to the man who, albeit was amazingly attractive, he only spent an afternoon speaking face to face. Even so, the proof was in the inky black words that formed whenever Shiro moved his lips. A security that Keith never before experienced and had no idea he wanted or could even find.

Even still, this wasn’t love.

[Whats up? You know you don’t have to be so formal]

[Sorry, I guess I’m used to sending out too many emails to investors on my phone these days. Force of habit.]

There was the tug of a grin on Keith’s face as he responded.

[No prob. Either way, what were you talking about?]

[I made the mistake of telling Allura that you enjoyed her book. She wants to meet you.]

Keith’s heart left its cavity and crawled up his throat, a paralyzing surprise. He didn’t know what he expected, but he didn’t expect to meet Allura Altea, writer of the stories that were often his sole comfort in the din of life, so incredibly soon.

[Of course, I’ll be there with her, Keith. You have nothing to worry about.]

Right. Okay. Like somehow that was supposed to make anything better.

Keith knew that he was socially awkward. At best. He wasn’t practiced in the art of conversation, the falsehoods spoken too often contradictory and frustrating to endure. Vivid images of making a fool of himself clouded his vision.

But still, he wanted to meet her, and he wanted to see Shiro again.

[Alright, I’ll bite. What are you guys thinking?]

[Friday night, Cotogna’s at 7pm.]

Well, he had no idea what the hell that was, but he’d worry about that later.

[Great! I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Keith.]

Me too, his heart sang out before he clamped it down, shoved it back down into his chest.

 

* * *

 

Allura Altea, as Keith found out, was almost (if not equally) gorgeous as Shiro. Her silvery hair had been braided into a fishtail and she wore simple, sheer white blouse and maroon pencil skirt, but he could understand what Shiro had mentioned about her before dinner. She sat across him at the dining table, soft candlelight playing against her flawless skin and highlighting her regal features. The way she looked at him, with her ice blue eyes, was elusive. That gaze made the palms of Keith's hands sweat.  
  
It was all baseless rumors, but the word around town was that she descended from nobility of some sort. No one knew exactly what, and why someone as beautiful as her didn't just live out her life on her inheritance and the occasional modeling gig. But her calling it seemed was to write, and being Queen of the New York Times Bestseller list with each new release was more than enough proof of her expertise.  
  
"You're Keith, right?" Suddenly her eyes lit up as she effusively greeted him with a lilting accent, hand reaching across the table. Metallic pink, Keith noted as he took her hand in his. She was definitely Allura Altea.  
  
Shiro sat between them on the other side of the table, attempting to seem nonchalant as he sipped his glass. Tonight he had abandoned his laidback, Northern Californian tech guru look for something more refined, a grey button up rolled to just below the elbows and a thin black tie. Keith fought hard with himself to not simply stare, starry eyed.  
  
To Keith's chagrin, he hadn't bothered to look into the unspoken dress code until the last minute, making do with a frumpled button up from that laundry that still smelled passable and the darkest pair of jeans he could muster. He arrived feeling like he was going to a dinner with a prince and a princess, the obvious gremlin of the table.  
  
"So, Shiro's told me just about everything he knows about you." A mischievous glint in her eye. "I couldn't help but be curious, so I was dying to meet you. I hope you don't mind."  
  
"N-no, not at all." He sputtered in surprise, quickly glancing over to see Shiro just about choking on his water, tiny black words that could be summed up as mortification filtering through Keith's ears. "I'm a big fan of your work, so I'm also honored to meet you."  
  
Allura pouted and jokingly huffed, "Here I thought I could trust Shiro to keep my secrets. But he's always been sincere and honest to a fault."  
  
"That's what I like about him best." Keith responded instantly, and Shiro coughed loudly, red in the ears as Allura smiled like young schoolgirl.  
  
"Why don't we order now?" Shiro attempted. "Instead of pretending I'm not here. I almost regret having the two of you meet."  
  
"I, for one, think it's your best idea yet Shiro." She picked up the menu before leaning towards Keith, conspiratorial. "Give me your number later, we can talk more without him fussing about it."  
  
"I've created a monster." He sighed loudly, playfully.

Keith decided on the cheapest thing he could find that wasn’t a tongue twister of Italian, betting on the fact that if Allura and Shiro liked this place, he should find whatever his dinner was acceptable. Next to him, the pair chatted with their waiter like an old friend before Allura leaned closer to whisper in the server’s ear, the sapphires in her ears glimmering in the table candlelight.

Before he even realized, their waiter had returned with a red wine. Keith watched as she took a sip, then a small smile and an approving nod. As for him, the wine tasted less like grapes and vinegar that had been squeezed through a cardboard sieve than usual, and so it seemed not bad.

“So um…” Keith attempted. “How did the two of you meet?”

“University.” Allura answered instantly, brightly. “Shiro here was the golden boy of the astrophysics department, we all thought he was going to be an astronaut.”

“Things happen in life.” Shiro answered simply in reply. “And now I’m here in San Francisco.”

Once again her eyes held a knowing sparkle. “But could you imagine it, Keith? Shiro as the dashing captain of some sort of space adventure, leading his crew into unknown territory-”

“That’s a little advanced for what we have right now, Allura.” He reminded her with a sheepish grin before he set his jaw, eyes lowered. His voice was softer now, a little less forthcoming. “Besides, I could never be a leader.”

The words were once again black, and Keith watched Shiro, knowing that this wasn’t some sort of show of humbleness. There was an honesty to Shiro’s statement, even though it was obvious it hurt him. He looked across the table, Allura innocently sipping her wine.

“I think whatever you do would be great anyways, Shiro.” Keith said it low, hiding his face in the rim of his glass. He couldn’t help his startling admiration, and he felt a fool for it.

A red began to bloom on Shiro’s cheeks, his mouth hanging slightly open. Wordlessly, the waiter arrived with their dinner, Allura breaking the silence exclaiming over her lamb dish.

For just a second, right before he dug into what turned out to be tortellini, Keith caught Shiro’s eye, his smile warm from across the table.

 _“Thank you.”_ He mouthed wordlessly at Keith.

Keith knew that his grin was probably the goofiest one that Shiro had ever seen.

 

* * *

 

After polishing off the red wine by sharing the largest slice of chocolate cake Keith ever laid eyes on, Allura sped off in an Uber with an elegant hand wave, promising to message Keith later about all of Shiro’s most embarrassing moments. The two men stood awkwardly in the parking lot, not too close, but not very far either.

“Thanks for indulging her.” Shiro ran a nervous hand through his hair, the fringe flopping back down a little too effortlessly for Keith’s brain to take.

“It’s okay… I was… anxious at first.” Keith confessed. “But I had a good time. Allura’s incredibly nice.”

There was a chuckle in response, a hand coming up to his mouth. “Yeah well, sorry for the fancy dinner and all. I think she wanted to intimidate you but ended up liking you too much.”

“O-oh…” A wave of mixed emotions came over him, but in the end he was just a bit pleased. “Thank you to you too, for talking to me at the cafe that day.”

It always surprised Keith just how honest he could be in front of Shiro, as if instead of breaking down his walls, or whatever people liked to call it, he himself made ready strides to meet Shiro at the gates. The exposure frightened him frankly, it wasn’t something he let allowed himself to be in front of others.

When he was with Shiro though, when he was talking with Shiro, it seemed like every tiny admittance of his thoughts was rewarded tenfold in the boldest black, an exchange in its purest form.

It frightened him. How much he sought after it time and time again.

“I’m nothing much.” Keith remarked, his gaze sliding away, unable to look Shiro in the eye. “But you’ve been very kind to me... I’m not used to that.”

There again was the recklessness he never dreamed of. He was standing outside of the gates of his fortress, hand outstretched to welcome the other man in. Adrenaline pulsed in his veins.

Maybe I’ll regret baring myself to this guy for the rest of my life. Keith thought, gritting his teeth. Maybe I’ll regret ever saying anything, but more than anything I know I’ll regret not telling him how I felt at all.

_"God, how can this guy be for real?"_

The thought revealed itself to him, and he snapped back to see that Shiro had also turned away, hiding his flushed cheeks with the palm of his hand. After an embarrassed cough, Shiro faced Keith once again, face determined.

“Is it okay if I see you again?”

The words rushed over him, dark and once again painfully honest. One look at Shiro and Keith knew he wouldn’t have to be a mind reader to know that he meant what he said.

“You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.” He quickly continued with a tiny scoff. “God, that sounds so cliche… But Keith, I want to see more of you.”

He clutched his awfully wrinkly shirt, peering at Shiro as if gazing into an abyss in which he had to cross over. There on the other side was a world Keith had had never known, never thought he would. He just had to make it past, take that goddamn leap.

“Okay.” He mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. Keith’s ears were now a bright pink, his face a scrunched frown in an attempt to temper the sheer terror and happiness he felt all at once.

“Okay.” Keith repeated once more with more conviction, and Shiro’s smile lit up the 9pm parking lot like the sun on a summer afternoon.

His unabashed joy only intensified the burning red of Keith’s face. “Holy shit, you don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“Sorry, I just can’t help it. I just-” Shiro stopped his reply short

_"-Want to kiss you so badly right now."_

One hand wound around Shiro’s tie and tugged, pulling him close enough to Keith until they stood nose to nose.

“Do it.” Keith breathed, his breath hot on Shiro’s cheek.

“W-what?”

“I know you want to.” Violet eyes challenged him. “So do it.”

Another tug at the tie and their lips met, Keith deciding it was taking too long to explain to Shiro exactly what he meant.

At first startled, and then emboldened, Shiro slipped his hands around Keith’s waist, pulling him close enough for their chests to touch. Without the slightest hint of hesitation, he nipped at Keith’s bottom lip, firm fingers gripping at his hips. Keith wound his arms around his neck to hold on for dear life.

Holy hell. Keith thought as he fought to match the same ferocity, hands roaming the neatly shaved hair at the back of Shiro’s neck. This wasn’t just a first kiss. It was a collision that Keith might not walk out alive from.

Shiro finally pulled away, mouth wet from their sudden and furious exchange, neatly made up tie now completely askew. All Keith wanted to do was dive back in, Shiro on the receiving end of his finally realized pent-up frustration.

“Keith.” Shiro gasped, words as dark as his gaze. “You’re ridiculous, and amazing.”

“Coming from you, I know you really mean it.” He repeated the parting sentence from their first meeting.

That earned him another kiss, this time with the drag of tongue over his lips, which he gratefully received.

Keith, age twenty-two, graphic arts designer and mind reader.

With quite possibly the hottest, honest man to walk planet earth named Takashi Shirogane, sucking face in the parking lot of a fancy Italian restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! Thank you for reading, here is part one of my new two part fic, Context! 
> 
> I was originally planning on making this a one-shot, but like always, it ended up being too much for me to try to do all at once and I decided to split it in half. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! I quite liked the concept of Keith being a mind reader, and that's where the root of his mistrust for others come from, but then Shiro comes along and he's this faultless human being that refuses to tell a single lie. Naturally the two are drawn together, as always. 
> 
> Next part... Things don't always seem the way they appear. What's going on with Shiro...?
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. A Strike-through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, once again, with a second part supremely longer than the first. 
> 
> Thank you so much for clicking on this, for all the love and support of the first part. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the conclusion just as much!

Dating Shiro was unexpectedly easy.

Well, everything came easy when you knew your boyfriend had the habit of telling the truth, and nothing but the truth. Even so, Keith had never gotten this close to someone before. He had never done the so called dating “thing” successfully.  

Where he had felt most comfortable was in the hazy, one-night stands laced with alcohol and the heady thump of bass, the ones where he left in the morning and no one ever tried to ask him to stay. Keith had never been fond of getting too close to another, the closer he got, the more ugly and contradicting their words became, and so he had resigned himself to a necessary solitude.

His ability in all parts of his life was a burden, but that being said, it was easy for him to be the ideal lover. Every wish, every fantasy was easily achieved, and nothing seemed too daring. If his partner wanted to be touched just so, or if they wanted his hands around their throat but found themselves unable to ask, Keith was there, ready and willing.

Sometimes he wondered if this was where he truly belonged, and he relished in how the words of a stranger would dim from their usual color as their pleasure mounted, the darkness of honesty overtaking the both of them.

So Shiro, with his simple black words, as they always were, and the intensity of his sincerity bleeding out of him, was a refuge Keith didn’t realize he so desperately needed. There was no need to wade through the truth and the lies, the spoken word and the thoughts Shiro actually had.

A companion, the brightness in the din, a solace that Keith saw others had in their soft ignorance, their hidden words, was something he believed he could never grasp. Affection was a lie. Tolerance was the only thing he could permit to most. There was too much pretense, too much unnecessary meaning, the reading between the lines a game he refused to play.  

But Shiro simply was, and he was a blessing.

Keith was in Love.

“So is this like one of your hook-ups gone right?” Pidge smirked, pulling the exact deadpanned expression she had wanted out of him. Her words were emerald green.

His old college roommate sat in his kitchen, ever the only one of their group of friends to be punctual. It was their fourth annual Thanksgiving, but it seemed like an ongoing battle for everyone to remember that six in the evening had been the set time for the past four years.    

“You make it sound like you didn’t hear them always begging for more from the other side of the wall.” He snarked back as he took her tray covered in foil.

She rolled her eyes in response, handing him her tupperware. “Please don’t remind me, that’s something I’ve been trying to block out from my memory entirely.”

Keith set the food down on the kitchen counter and peeked at the baked pasta, mumbling his thanks as her thoughts formed in his vision. Pidge was always smart, far too smart, and her brain ran a mile a minute. There was something easy about it though, because he knew that Pidge never modified what she said to lie, but to simplify.

“But you know what I mean.” Pidge had taken a seat at one of the island’s barstools, chin propped up with the palm of her hand. “It seems like it’s been a long time since you’ve dated anyone.”

It had been several months since he started dating Shiro, a combination of uncertainty and a poor lining of the schedules that delayed the group’s meeting of his significant other. Keith couldn’t deny that there was an element of anxiety to it all, needing to know he was absolutely sure the relationship could withstand a couple months of passion before he announced anything.

They all knew how his previous relationship had ended up, even if it had been years ago.

He leaned over to open the drawer underneath the kitchen sink, finding the slightly dusty paper plates and plastic utensils after a moment of searching. Keith took time with his answers when he spoke to her, and he knew she didn’t mind.

“He’s different.” Keith settled on being as to the point he could be. “That’s the only reason why I would have started going out with him.”

He knew he was blushing by the time he finished the sentence, and Pidge was just about to take a jab at him for it before the doorbell gratefully rang.

Lance and Hunk stood at the doorway, a pie in Lance’s hands and a giant pot in Hunk’s. The pie was shoved unceremoniously into Keith’s arms.

“Hey Keith! So I heard you’re not a lone wolf anymore.”

Loud and sky blue came Lance’s words as Hunk and Pidge exchanged greetings. Keith carefully rearranged the contents of his fridge to slot the cake in before slamming the door shut, feigning aggravation as he stared at Lance. “You all act like this is the biggest news of the century.”

“Um, because it is?” Lance put his hands on his hips in reply. “We thought you were going to hit it and quit it until you were too old to keep your dick hard.”

The trio collectively groaned at the visualization, little black words of annoyance flitting into Keith’s ears.

“And you never bothered to tell us who this guy was or how you two met either.” He added, the usual hue fading into deep blue.

“It wasn’t like you asked.” Keith’s tone was kinder this time, Lance’s words only ever hovered darker when he was being particularly vulnerable.

“I did ask!” Lance slapped his hands onto the counter indignantly, brows furrowed. “On the group chat!”

Pidge huffed, feet dangling off the barstool as she shifted in her seat. “You do know that Keith’s muted the group chat, right?”

Open-mouthed but speechless, Lance pointed a shaking, condemning finger at Keith.

 _“What?_ ”

Was the only thing Keith could hear Lance’s mind muster, and he fought the urge to laugh.

“Yeah that happened like, two days after we made the group chat.” Hunk offered another stab at his stunned boyfriend.

“So all those missed hang out invites…” Lance’s voice did a characteristic tremble, hovering over the verge of tears in embarrassment. “It’s because you never even read them?”

Keith sighed, prepared to defend himself against Lance’s rapid fire texting habits before the doorbell rang, once again cutting through the conversation. All four pairs of eyes roamed the kitchen and counted each other present before finally resting on Keith, who had taken on a particular shade of red.

“I uh... guess that’s him.” He swallowed, his friends in an intense silence while their minds buzzed with anticipation.

Even through the door, he could hear Shiro’s thoughts. The letters were particularly small, and wavering ever so slightly. Keith grinned, at least he wasn’t alone in his anxiety.

He turned the doorknob, stepping back as he did to let Shiro in. He had on that same beanie he wore when they first met, an nervous smile across his lips. In his hands was a bowl of mashed potatoes, if Keith recalled correctly.

“Sorry for the delay.” Shiro explained as he handed Keith the bowl, shrugging off his coat. “I know they’re just mashed potatoes from the box but I couldn’t get the right consistency… the first time was like soup for some reason, and I could swear I followed the instructions word for word-”

“Shiro?” Pidge jumped off the stool, eyes wide with disbelief. “Is that you? Shiro?”

His arm hung mid-air, just about to put his jacket onto the coat hook. He stared across to the cramped kitchen, a flicker of unknown emotion flashing across his face. “Katie?”

She flushed, that name wasn’t one anyone in the group could say without taking a fist to the face. “I um… go by Pidge now.”

“R-right.” The coat was safely on a hook, and so Shiro took two strides to reach Pidge, a wide grin and a hand on her shoulder. “Matt told me, I’m sorry I forgot. It’s great to see you again, Pidge.”

“Same!” She practically bounced on the balls of her feet. “I haven’t seen you enough since you and Matt graduated.”

A quick cough sounded, and the two turned to see Keith, hands still wrapped around the tin foiled container of Shiro’s Not So Runny mashed potatoes. “I thought I was going to have the honors of introducing Shiro.”

Pidge smiled, “Sorry, I was just so surprised, I couldn’t help it. He’s my brother’s best friend.”

At the comment, Keith watched as Shiro shift his feet, one hand coming to his chin awkwardly. “Matt Holt and I have been friends since childhood, we lived across the street from each other.”

“Keith, if I had known Shiro was who you were dating, I wouldn’t have been worried at all.” Her colors were a rich, dark emerald with sincerity. “You can always trust Shiro to have your back.”

For a brief moment, the Keith and Shiro locked eyes, a genuine warmth in his gaze.

Which was abruptly interrupted by Lance, and a sheepish Hunk following quickly after. Even still, Shiro handled Lance’s frantic interrogation of their fated meeting with characteristic grace. After a second round of beers, with one hand in the bag of cheese doodles and his entire body sprawled on Keith’s beat up futon couch, Lance begrudgingly spoke of his approval of Shiro.

Not that Keith really necessarily needed Lance’s approval, of all people, but it did help.

 

* * *

 

“The uh… mashed potatoes... sure are interesting.”

Leave it to Lance to address the elephant in the room. Shiro visibly flinched, and a pointed kick in the shin from Keith elicited a startled yelp from Lance.

“It’s okay.” Shiro sheepishly replied, “I know they’re bad. Cooking isn’t my strong suit.”

Pidge took a spoonful of the potatoes, chewing thoughtfully before mumbling. “Well, every Achilles needs a heel, right?”

The four of them shared a pointed look while Shiro looked at them questioningly, so he _was_ human after all.

“It’s not unsalvageable.” Hunk added, daring to pile some more on his plate. “It’s a little gritty, and just a little spicy, a little sweet somehow… maybe it would pair with fruit?”

“Oh boy, here comes the food critic.” Lance groaned, but there was just a hint of a grin on his face.

Eyebrows furrowed, Hunk shook his head. “No, seriously Shiro, I think you might be onto something. You should give me the recipe.”

Lance turned to stare at Shiro, clearly begging him to not reveal the details of his accidental culinary masterpiece. He shrugged, instead. “Sorry Hunk, I have no clue. I just tried to follow the directions on the box.”

“Why don’t we all have more turkey?” Keith suggested while slamming a leg down onto Hunk’s plate, effectively ending the discussion.

Later in the night, stuffed full with strangely neon green pie and one too many drinks, three sleeping bodies huddled around Keith’s couch. Lance’s head rested in the crook of Hunk’s arm and Pidge had curled up on a lounge chair, fingers still holding her game cards in a death grip.  After dinner was board games, ending in an overwhelming victory from Keith, who insisted that he hadn’t looked up strategies just to impress Shiro. (Mind reading does have its benefits, but he usually didn’t play this recklessly. Maybe he was just a little distracted by that charmed little smile Shiro had every time he managed to play his hand just right.)

“They usually do this. They’ll wake up in the morning hungover and raid my fridge for breakfast supplies.” Keith murmured to Shiro as he surveyed the bodies in his living room.

“Sounds fun.” Shiro answered, a little dryly.

The two of them were the only ones left standing after Pidge had convinced the group to join in on a round of shots, because apparently dating Shiro was the first good life choice Keith had ever made, a cause for celebration.

Normally Keith would have been just as plastered as the rest of friends, stumbling to his bedroom, too dizzy to bother with dragging his jeans of his legs. He would wake up with a weird crick in his neck and the chorus of groans from his living room, a zombie apocalypse triggered by irresponsible alcohol consumption.

This time he had been too busy playing host to join in on the excessive drinking, and after that single shot had finished burning its way down their throats, Shiro had also announced he was done drinking for the night.

Keith smiled faintly to himself. In the past Thanksgivings, he had drowned his sorrows in Fireball. Maybe this time around, he really didn’t need it anymore.

“Well then.” Shiro slid a hand around his waist, drawing him closer. “I guess the festivities are over.”

Keith turned, winding his arms around his neck while he turned to look at his bedroom door. “They don’t have to be.”

Like a little spark, Keith could see Shiro’s thoughts, his eyes darkening as the grip on his hip tightened. The immediate approval sat low and warm in his stomach.

“I couldn’t possibly stay.” Shiro now spoke, a wry smile on his lips. “I gotta hit the mall you know. All those Black Friday deals.”

“Walk out now for that new hdmi cable, and it’s over between us.” Keith shot back, even while their mouths hovered inches away from each other.

Shiro drew away, and in confusion, Keith watched him duck low for just a moment. When he stood, he scooped Keith up by his legs and torso, holding him like it was his wedding night and he just so happened to be woefully underdressed.

“If you threaten me like that, you know I can’t say no.”

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel particularly embarrassed, picked up by his much larger boyfriend like he was a 20 pack of water bottles at the supermarket. Keith pressed his forehead against Shiro’s.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

 

* * *

 

Fall turned to winter, and winter gave birth to the small, budding leaves of early spring. Before Keith knew it, it had been nearly a year since he met Shiro, since the world was just the tiniest bit more bearable.

Sometime mid-February, he managed to snag a promotion, now no longer tasked with menial jobs that had left him antsy and exhausted all at once. It was a good change of pace for Keith, and it sure helped making rent a lot easier. Before he knew it, checking his bank account didn’t give him the sweats like it used to.

Both Shiro and Keith made an effort to at least see each other twice a week, despite their work schedules ever so slowly taking over their lives. Allura continued her habit of meddling in the best way, as she did, even at the start of their relationship. In her most recent stunt, she had abruptly texted them a picture of a snowy forest landscape, fantastic aurora overhead.

[Off to sequester myself in my writing cabin, be back in three months!]

A short buzz later,

[Make use of the apartment while I’m away]

They could almost see Allura’s knowing grin, scheming and pleased with herself.

“Is that… two moons I see in the picture Allura sent us?” Keith squinted, trying desperately to see past the ribbons of aurora. He zoomed in on the picture to no avail.

Shiro let out a wheezing laugh. “She goes to her cabin sometimes when she’s getting to the real heart of her book... Who knows? Maybe her cabin’s a spaceship.”

Of course, they did nothing to question her or object to her sudden leave, which is how Keith eventually found himself staying over at Shiro and Allura’s apartment.

A week into Keith’s stay, and the two of them had become perfectly comfortable lounging on the quilted grey sectional of Shiro’s living room, gaping at the gorgeous cake a contestant had made in a televised cooking competition. Shiro, reading glasses in one hand and book in another, was slowly nodding off, his head bobbing him in and out of consciousness.

Gently, Keith turned his body to straddle him around the waist, taking the glasses and book into his hands and setting them on the sleek, glass and chrome coffee table. On the giant screen TV, judges oohed and aahed at the delicate mirror glaze finish the contestant had managed to pull off at the last second.

“Shiro, do you want to go to bed now?” He carded a hand through Shiro’s hair, sliding down the side of his (flawless) jawline before resting on his cheek. Keith was asking just for formality's sake. He knew from the disjointed thoughts going through Shiro’s brain that it was just about time for him to go to bed.

Shiro cracked an eye open, looking up with a dopey, exhausted smile. “Iss okay…” His words slurred, black and just a little blurry, “I’m just… restin’ my eyesss…”

Something came over Keith, looking into the face of the single man in the world he cared deeply for, an impulse, maybe.

He knew he wanted this for the rest of his life, if he could have it.

“Hey Shiro?” Keith asked, his voice just so slightly wavering. Under him, Shiro slowly opened both eyes, sensing the change of tone.

“I was wondering… I’m uh, starting to make enough income to maybe start looking for a better place.” He started, hands nervously stitching together.

In truth, he had been thinking about bringing this up to Shiro for awhile, but lacked both the courage and the follow through to say anything about it. Keith knew, logically, with every morning that he left Shiro’s side, the both of them wanted just a little bit more time together, both in words and in thoughts. It was the right step, the right timing, yet he wasn’t able to keep his cowardly fear of rejection at bay.

“It’s um… not quite enough for me to splurge on a new high rise apartment or anything…” His eyes slid back to the television screen, the judges were just about to slice into the cake. “But I was thinking… we could move in together, find a really nice place for the both of us.”

It was as if the air had been knocked out of Shiro’s lungs. Keith felt his body stiffen beneath him, and the growing pit in his stomach widened to eat him from the inside out.

“I… I don’t know.” Shiro finally attempted after what seemed like an unbearably long moment. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Right...

Right. Keith repeated to himself, reassured himself. It was a big step, after all. He has Allura as his roommate, he couldn’t just possibly up and leave, there’s a lease to account for, too.

“It’s, it’s not like I don’t want to.” Shiro continued, but the words fell on deaf ears.

Keith stared, wordlessly, unable to fight the tide of panic washing over him, threatening to spill out of his eyes, his ears, form itself into a single scream.

The words glimmered metallic silver.

Glinting in the low light of the lamp resting on the side table, they hung in the air, and he had to admit it was a lovely shade, as if held together by moondust.

Dramatic, reality TV music sounded as groans came from the television. Under the beautiful mirror glaze was an undercooked cake. The contestant had spent far too long on the outside and didn’t nearly have enough time for the inside, so they could do nothing but watch the cake slowly collapse inwards, oozing out onto the table.

Keith had seen this coming, from the clips of the contestants working earlier in the episode.

He didn’t catch the fate of the cake. In his eyes was only the silver, drifting silently through the living room.

 

* * *

 

He rolled out of bed, briefly dazed and unsure of his surroundings. Then he spotted the paint, peeling off the top left corner of the wall, and realized he was back in his own apartment.

Keith rushed to the bathroom, slammed open the door and began to dry heave into the toilet.

His brain felt the dread pressing heavy against his skull, flitting about like moth’s wings as his throat opened up for the heart that had dropped out of his chest. Nothing in toilet bowl but bile and water, surprisingly.

He made some sort of bullshit excuse to leave Shiro’s apartment the night before. Something about how he had forgotten there was a huge part of a team project he had to complete, and he just had to go home to find the file on his computer.

Shiro, worried and now once again made of black font, offered Keith a ride to and from his apartment.

“No I think… I’m going to stay home. It um… helps me concentrate.” He said through gritted teeth and balled up fists.

For someone who could pick out lies at the drop of a hat, he sure was awful at it.

“Look, Keith, if this is about what I said earlier…” He began, and already the words frosted over, taking on a brushed nickel. “I really just need time to think-”

“It’s not about that!”

Keith slapped a hand across his mouth, his interruption louder than he would have ever intended.

All he wanted to do was to get Shiro to stop talking. He didn’t want to see it, he didn’t want to hear it.

Shiro stood in front of him, and instead of confusion, his mouth had set into a thin, determined line. Wordlessly, he didn’t stop Keith from rushing out the door.

But there was no last minute project due the following Monday. After a fitful sleep, he woke up and promptly threw himself at the porcelain god residing in his cramped bathroom.

Keith briefly contemplated how bad day drinking would be if he started at 8:30 in the morning.

Instead his phone rang, and for one soaring moment, he thought it was Shiro. Maybe it was an explanation of the events the night before, maybe he would tell Keith the truth and apologize.

It was a text from Lance.

Keith let out a gruff little noise, knew his face had scrunched instantly into a scowl.

[I’m not going to let u pretend u forgot that u promised we’d go out for breakfast 2day]

[Besides pidge is coming too and u know she’ll never let u get away with flaking]

Right as he read the message, another notification appeared, a text from Pidge.

[If you don’t show up, I’ll email Shiro my blackmail file I have on you.]

Well, if that wasn’t motivation, Keith didn’t know what was.

Not like it mattered really what Pidge had to say about him to Shiro anymore.

Like a fool, he dragged himself from the comforting, cracked tile of his bathroom floor and took a walk three blocks down to the local coffee shop. It wasn’t lost on him that his friends had found the closest possible caffeine supplier in an effort to make sure he actually showed up.

“I think we’re going to have to break up.”

Once they had sat down comfortably at a table next to the window, Keith broke the bad news.

Lance choked on his caramel macchiato, Pidge handing him a stack of paper towels with a vague look of disgust.

“I thought things were going really well! What happened?” Lance eventually gasped out.

There was nothing going on in their minds but the echo of disbelief, the stunned black wording flooding his vision.

He gripped his drink in his hands, squeezing the clear plastic cup until the milky, brown coffee almost spilled from the lid.  “I think… Shiro’s hiding something from me.”

“Do you think he’s… cheating?” Pidge nearly whispered, as if she was committing a sin to suggest that her hero, her brother’s best friend could ever do such a thing.

Keith tilted his head, contemplating. “I’m not sure. I just know that he’s acting a little… off. We had a bit of a disagreement.”

“You’ve always been irritatingly good at reading people,” Lance sighed, setting his own cup down, “But it’s never really bothered you like this before. What was the fight about?”

It was torture in itself to admit that things were rocky with Shiro, but Keith would rather take a hot poker to the side than reveal the intimate secrets of any of his relationships.

In the silence, his friends instead speculated, every passing moment, Pidge and Lance’s thoughts spun further and further out of control.

_“Keith found Shiro watching straight porn.”_

_“Shiro was catfishing him for startup money.”_

_“Shiro was hiding a secret child.”_

“I asked if he would maybe like to move in with me.” He finally blurted out, his gaze fell on the blue and purple mosaic of the coffee table, trying to not show his face, red from humiliation. “I know it’s a lot to ask but, that’s when he started getting all dodgy.” 

His two friends shared a look, the obvious consensus in their minds that it was unusual for Keith to even bother voicing things he himself wanted. Laser focused on the table now, he found a small tile of silver, the mirror surface staring back at him.

“Keith… it’s normal for couples to disagree about stuff like moving in. It’s an important step.” Dark blue like the ocean bottom, Lance spoke with more sincerity than he had to offer Keith in years. “Before Hunk and I moved in, we fought pretty hard about it too.”

“You’ve never been very… forthcoming about your feelings either, Keith.” Pidge gave him a pointed look. “I’m no expert on this stuff, but maybe you should just talk to him. Ask him what he really thinks.”

“Wow.” Keith took a sip of his drink, noisily slurping the straw in an attempt to distract them from his burning ears. “I didn’t think you guys had it in you to give good advice.”

They both grinned, knowing this was the closest to thanks from Keith they were going to get.

“Now that we’re done with ‘boo-hoo Keith time’,” Lance whipped out his phone, “Time for a group selfie!”

“Ugh, no, Lance.” Pidge and Keith answered in humorless unison.

 

* * *

 

They had spent the rest of the morning, wired on too much caffeine and giving Keith suggestions on how to move forward. Back in his apartment, he had smiled faintly at the one good shot Lance managed to take of the three of them. Pidge instantly responded by drawing a horrendous clown face on Lance and sending the photoshopped image back.

It was a daily annoyance, a buzz in the ears, a headache right between the eyes, but Keith rarely thought of his ability to read minds as a unique experience. There were days where he even forgot that it was a singular experience, something he had to face completely  alone rather than a chronic illness he simply had to bear.

He forgot that there were times when he just had to trust someone, despite the coloration of the words they spoke to him.

Keith had to afford grace to those who couldn’t read his thoughts.

[Sorry I left things at such an awkward point last night. Could I come over?]

Keith vibrated with tension for just a brief moment.

And then came the response.

[Okay, come over.]

Which is how he ended up, under the late afternoon light of spring, back at Shiro’s front door. In his pocket, his phone shook with notifications from the group chat littered with thumbs up emojis from his trio of friends, rooting for him.

Shiro opened the door, and Keith swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Hey.” He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes, his usually immaculately ironed button-up disheveled and frumpy. Keith wondered briefly if Shiro had slept in the same shirt he wore the night before.

“Hey.” Keith replied, stepping in. The glasses and novel he had placed on the coffee table were right where he left it. His abandoned laptop tossed carelessly on the kitchen island, and an extra pair of his shoes still kicked aside, even though Shiro had told him a dozen times that there was a shoe closet he could put them in. He knew that in Shiro’s bedroom, his beloved red hoodie with the mustard stain, now long after the time that he would have been able to get it out, would be draped over Shiro’s desk chair.

It dawned on him that he wanted this. He wanted to come home and see his things scattered amidst Shiro’s much more orderly things. He wanted to wake up in the morning and see Shiro’s face. He wanted to go to sleep knowing that he was just an arm’s reach away.

The teeth in his jaw ached, knowing that if did he want this, he was going to have to tell the truth. Bare his thoughts. Offer up a part of him to Shiro that the world constantly and unintentionally did for Keith.

“Shiro, I…” He began, but all the practiced dialogue that Hunk had written out for him were suddenly a blur of indecipherable lines. His gut wrenched. He had wanted to maybe wait until they were both seated or something, anything that seemed more like a civilized adult, but he couldn’t hold back. “I thought of how to say this, but I don’t think that anything but being straightforward is my style.”

_“I always did say that’s what I like about you.”_

The words were black, but Keith didn’t have to see them to know they were the truth. It was written in the way that a ghost of a smile had formed on Shiro’s lips, despite the tense situation.

“I didn’t ask about moving in together to push you, Shiro.”

“I know.” He sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“But I do know that… something changed in the way you spoke to me,” Keith winced at the closest approximation of the truth he could muster. Time to bite the bullet. “Shiro, are you hiding something from me? I know that what I asked wasn’t what’s bothering you.”

There was the frozen silence, the stiffened limbs. It was like Keith had walked too close to the line, and in reaction Shiro found he had no choice but to back himself into a icy death.

“I just want you to be honest to me.” He attempted, again.

“There’s nothing wrong, Keith.”

Silver bloomed, like blood in the water, poison in Keith’s veins. He fought against it.

“I’m trying to understand, Shiro. If we could just get past this… just tell me what you’re thinking. There’s obviously something you’re not telling me.”

“Keith.” Harsh, commanding, but the edge of desperation, like a plea.

He had been locked out, he realized. All along, Keith had been meeting Shiro at the gates, but Shiro himself had never been ready to bring him into the walls of his own fortress.

Embarrassment spiked through his bloodstream and made him run cold, fingertips and toes numb. He could set himself on fire for how much of a fool he had been all these months. Keith stood still, watching Shiro, watched as the man he thought he knew shatter into a fine dust of shimmering silver. Unknowingly, Keith sucked in a shaking breath.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Keith. Take it or leave it.”

His nails were biting crescents into the soft flesh of his palms. Keith felt himself descend into a bottomless pit, didn’t stop himself from falling straight down.

What a fucking joke. This is what trying gets you.

“I’m being honest with how I feel.” He managed, his tongue like a knife, poised to strike. “The least you could do is the same for me.”

In his heart of hearts, he had to have known that this was a disproportionately bitter response to such a simple problem. It was a fight or flight, and Keith had chosen fight. Humiliation for trusting anyone in the first place, for being tricked, lied to.

Irrational, self-serving, this is all Keith had ever known of humans and their lies, and like a cat with its claws out, he couldn’t fight the urge to scratch.

Foolish, cowardly, blindly in love.

“Try to trust me, please,” He heard Shiro say.

The words broke through, cold water on the fire Keith held. He stared out at the bridge, torch in hand, and scoffed.

“I can’t.”

“This isn’t something that has to bother you, Keith.”

“But it does.”

Suddenly Shiro rolled his shoulders back. Taller. No longer the weary, feeble man trying to placate a worsening situation.

“I think we need to take a break.”

The words cracked, like a hammer over his head.

Too late.

Keith had already burned the bridge. He just didn’t know it yet.

“Keith... “ Shiro softly spoke, as if reciting a mantra. “Don’t come over anymore.”

It was like a dawn had broken in Keith’s eyes, a burst of blazing, golden light behinds his eyelids.

_Don’t come over anymore._

The words were golden.

An inexplicable compulsion wrapped its arms around Keith, and he stepped towards the front door, turning the handle as the fireworks of dazzling gold sounded in his eardrums.

It wasn’t until he found himself back in his apartment, staring at his ceiling did he realize what had just occurred.

His phone dinged, a text from Pidge.

[How did it go?]

 

* * *

 

It was summer, and Keith had thrown himself desperately into work.

“I think if we went with option A, it would save us several days of work. Besides, it doesn’t look too much different from option B.”

Keith began to head several more projects, each one more successful than the last. Like a man possessed, he did the only thing he knew how to excel at. There were no emotions needed in work, just results.

A ripple of murmuring sounded in the room at his decision to go with option B, a more clear stream of discontent in their thoughts.

_“Keith always wants to save time, I don’t know what the big deal is. He’s such a hard ass.”_

_“Just because he’s done some good work in the past couple of months, he thinks he’s in charge now.”_

He closed his eyes, willed the thoughts away. Unfortunate as it was, he had the knack of being able to tell what the client always wanted.

They broke for lunch, and he left his disgruntled colleagues to gossip amongst themselves. He had grown accustomed to eating out of the office, leaving the rest of his group to cool off. In the end, they would calm down when their final product was received with praise, as they always did.

Keith stopped by his desk to pick up his phone, winding through the maze of cubicles until he reached the front desk. Perhaps he’d go to the cafe around the corner today, cataloguing his menu of options while slipping headphones onto his head.

“Keith!”

Silver hair, done into soft loose curls, and a grin he thought he’d never see again. Allura stood in the front lobby, beside her the CEO of the company. He yanked his headphones down around his neck, as if caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing rather than stepping out for a sandwich.

“Seems like our new client is one of your acquaintances.” His boss watched him quietly, and he squirmed under her eagle-eye gaze. “She insisted that she only wanted you to be incharge of her newest book’s advertisement and marketing.”

It was like nothing had changed since he’d seen her last. Her open, friendly expression. His stained hoodie and unkempt hair in a small ponytail.

“Take an extra long break, if you’d like.” He snapped his gaze back towards the CEO as she spoke. “The two of you can discuss plans. I’ll consider it on the clock.”

Before he had the chance to object, Allura had taken him by the arm, whisking him away with an unknown source of strength. Under the oppressive noonday summer sun, his head spun in circles.

For a time, they strode down the street in a direction of her choosing, Keith finally finding the nerve to break the silence.

“So, about this ad-”

“Shiro’s been miserable, you know.” Her azure eyes glittered under the bright blue sky, white cotton shift dress fluttering in the wind.

They stopped walking, his tongue strangely large in his mouth as he struggled to speak. “He… he was the one that told me not to come back.”

“But was that what he really wanted? I wonder…” She mused as if Keith had just given her a fun riddle to solve, fingers on her chin. “He’s been moping around, Keith. Listless.”

His heart flipped, shook, restarted. Keith thought he had buried it under a wall of ice, he had willed himself to move on.

“Not my problem.” He turned to stalk back towards the office building.

Allura did nothing to stop him. “He wants to talk to you. He just doesn’t know how to go about it.”

The California sunshine was strangely cold on his back. He whipped around, eyes bright with anger. “Shiro didn’t want to tell me the truth then. What makes it different this time?”

“But he wants to tell you the truth.”

She watched him, a little ways away, said nothing as if she was the mind-reader, intent on revealing all his secrets, waiting for him to split himself open on the concrete.

He heard her tell herself she was willing to wait for what he had to say, no matter how ungodly the heat was becoming out on the naked sidewalk.

“Why now?” Keith whispered.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, contemplating the right words to tell him. When she spoke, her words were black, something he hadn’t seen since he left Shiro all those months ago. “Because, Keith. He has nothing left to lose.”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith leaned down to observe the succulents in the windowsills, noting that they were definitely larger than he had last seen him.

It had been two weeks. Two, trying weeks where Allura had come to his office every afternoon, and despite his protest, managed to drag him away for lunch at another fancy, exorbitantly priced restaurant.

“It’s on me.” She would always give him a wink. “That is, if the two of you finally admit you want to have a have a nice chat together.”

She had worn him down. Not because of her mysterious way with her words, pink and glittering as ever, but because she was speaking the truth. It was as if she had crawled in, assessed the damage, and given both the diagnosis and the cure all at once.

Keith was reluctant, of course. Once he was done with someone, he never went back, and there were no exceptions in his book. But when he had woken up one morning to a knock on the door and a cardboard box of all of his things, clothes neatly washed and clutter carefully organized, he was too embarrassed to admit he had sprinted down the hallway barefoot, only to see no one and nothing.

One more try. He told himself. Only to prove to Allura that this was a mess from the start, quell her poking and prodding at the wound that refused to heal.

“He says he’ll be at _that_ cafe on your lunch break on Monday” Between bites of her avocado toast she told him last Friday, as if the words didn’t feel like a twisting knife in his ribcage. “I love what you’re planning for the marketing materials for my book, by the way.”

So it was the following Monday, and after he could no longer pretend that the succulents were the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, Keith stepped inside, a chorus of well-trained baristas once again greeting him.

Too terrified to turn around and see Shiro standing right behind him, he made his order and took his chocolate pastry. After a moment of indecision, he swiveled around, swore he could feel his knees creak like rusted over gears screeching in protest of the motion.

The mismatched tables and chairs were less crammed together than he had last been here, the opening rush had trickled down to a steadier, loyal stream of customers.

At the very back, he spotted Shiro, the shade from the trees outside filtering through, speckling his skin with light and shadow. It was instantaneous, the way he had picked him out from the crowd, like he had finally stopped hoping to do just a month prior.

He scooted past the summer term college kids with their tiny, stacked cups of espresso and the Silicon Valley techies in heated debate over their new app design. With practiced nonchalance and a sure denial of the loud thumping of his heart, he sat down, watched as a sliver of a smile formed on Shiro’s face. He couldn’t help but do the same. Hopeful.

“Hey.” Low and rich black came his words.

“Hey.” Keith replied, gazing back at him.

“I’m sorry for Allura’s badgering.” Was where he began, scratching the back of his neck. “I hope you didn’t think it was some ploy to talk to you.”

“No… I knew you weren’t involved. I didn’t expect that you’d want to talk to me.” The honesty was sharp, unexpectedly so, and Keith flinched at such a naked statement, folding his hands together.

Shiro’s eyes hardened for a brief moment. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying to…”

He trailed off, but Keith watched him intently, felt the familiar ache of seeing a familiar face. He let himself absorb Shiro in his entirely, felt the scars unwind, allowed the press of him against the bruises of his body, ones that months after had not yet healed.  

Keith knew what he was doing to himself, hoping that there was some reason for the hollowness he had carried for three months. Maybe the explanation would be good enough. Maybe he could find himself cradled once again in his pitch black words.

“There’s no point in me hiding something like this from you.” Shiro finally admitted. “When you left that day, I thought about how… two, three years down the road I would have eventually had to tell you. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just trying to protect myself.”

The pained expression on his face, one of guilt and self-loathing, was just nearly unbearable for Keith, but the little dagger of self-gratification, a selfish “Ah, so he did hurt the way I did,” was his final foothold. Even so, he found that the blade was quickly shattering in his hands, he knew he could never truly relish in Shiro’s pain. Nothing was worth that, no matter what he had done to cause Keith sorrow tenfold.

Shiro rolled his jaw, sat back, and finally spoke. “When I was fifteen, I convinced Matt, Pidge’s brother, to climb a tree with me. He fell and broke his arm.”

It was a strange admission, nothing that Keith had anticipated Shiro would say. He tried to string the dots together, in both Shiro’s words and thoughts, found nothing.

“He was scared, but I didn’t have to bribe him to come with me. I thought he would like the view of our backyard as soon as he tried, so I told him to climb the tree with me. It was my fault he couldn’t take notes for the rest of the semester.” Distant and downcast, his eyes peered back into the past, a memory he struggled to explain.

“I felt guilty, because I knew I had persuaded him to do something he didn’t want to, and it hurt him.”

_“So what are you going to do when I tell you the truth?”_

Tiny, almost indecipherable were the words Keith heard, as if his very mind was shrinking from the idea of his own thoughts, unable to face it.

“If I were to tell you, Keith.” Hushed were Shiro’s words under his breath. “I had the ability to make anyone do anything. What would you think of me?”

“I don’t… know what you mean by that.” He finally confessed in reply.

Keith realized that he had been stirring his cup of coffee with the tiny metal teaspoon supplied, but his coffee had long gone cold. He pulled his hand back, waited for Shiro to once again find the right words to speak.

“The gift of Persuasion. Suggestion.” He held his hand out over the table and clenched it into a fist. “With a few words, I could get anyone to jump three times and bark like a dog.”

Anxiety rushed through him, his horrible gut reaction to crack a stupid joke.

_I didn’t know you had a super power, Shiro._

Keith froze.

“I know, it’s… ridiculous” Shiro laughed, a biting sound. “I wouldn’t blame you if you walked out the door and never spoke to me again.”

Anyone else would have. The words would have been taken as narcissism in its purest form, self-aggrandising in a way that would wrinkle the nose, call forth a mocking smile and jeering teeth. _What a complete lack of awareness of others_ , one would say, _you think we’re all puppets on your string? Fuck off._

But Keith wasn’t anyone else.

The words were black, and that’s all he needed.

Wide eyes, shaking lips, Keith instead leaned in closer. They were two conspirators in the middle of a meeting, and he was about to propose the plan to a bank heist, nervous energy singing.

Sunrise after a starless night, the dawn broke.

“Prove it to me.”

Shiro’s brows knitted together, ready to shake his head in instant rejection. “I don’t want to do that to you, Keith-”

“Shiro, prove it to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

The brief walk to Shiro’s car in the back parking lot was just a dozen too many steps, and he felt ready to burst from the tension.

Precaution, Shiro insisted.

Of all people, Keith knew what that meant.

He slid into the passenger seat, cocked his head to the side when Shiro buckled himself into the driver’s seat. Under the weight of Keith’s gaze, he flushed, pressing the red button to release the strap. “Sorry, force of habit.”

Keith allowed himself to grin.

He didn’t join in, but drew his lips in to suck a breath, swallowing thickly. “I um… I don’t know how to prove this to you. It’s been years since I’ve done this intentionally.”

“Tell me to do something.” He shrugged. “Like, ‘Hold three fingers up’. Something like that.”

“I just don’t know why you’re so willing to test this out.” Shiro murmured in disbelief.

“I’ll… explain to you once we’re done.”

He had to see something, just one thing, even if it was for the tiniest split second. If it was there, like he thought it was, then it would be Keith’s turn for the hard truths.

_Eye for an eye, I guess._

“Okay.” Shiro agreed after a short moment, staring down at Keith’s hands. “Fine. Only if you tell me what you’re thinking afterwards.”

Keith fought the urge to to laugh.

This could mean everything, or it could mean nothing.

He decided to bet on everything.

Keith watched Shiro take in a deep breath, heartbeat pounding against his eardrums. “Keith… hold up eight fingers.”

Nothing.

They held their breath, wary eyes and bodies leaning over the middle console.

“I…” Confused, he stuttered. “I… I don’t know why-”

“It’s because you don’t mean it.”

Keith slid a hand over, gripping Shiro’s with determination. Their fingers interlaced, as if they had never been separated in the first place. He squeezed the larger hand in a gesture of reassurance.

“Shiro, you have to actually want me to do something. You have to mean it.”

Keith could see the irritation written on his face. “How do you know for sure-”

“Hurry _up_ ,” He pushed forward, “Shiro just tell me what you want me to do. Anything-”

“Then tell me if you still love me.”

For just a moment, it was as if Shiro’s eyes had turned gold, his words rose like a sun, rising higher and higher until it engulfed Keith in its light. A pure euphoria washing over him, an overwhelming desire to answer Shiro’s request.

_“Tell me if you still love me.”_

A rush, a indescribable tangle of bliss and impatience, and he spilled his words, projectile vomit of emotion.

“I do, Shiro. After all this time, of course I do.”

It felt good to answer, and Keith knew whether his reply was an affirmation or rejection, it wouldn’t have mattered. Leave it to Shiro to never force his hand, even in Suggestion.

Gold were the letters he saw, blinding brilliance that no one could deny.

Keith knew he had felt this before. Seen this only once before.

_“Keith… Don’t come over anymore.”_

“Keith, now tell me what this is all about.” Shiro fought to deter attention from his face, flushed from the abrupt confession, even if he was the one that Suggested it in the first place.

Slowly, Keith retracted his hand from Shiro’s, put them under his thighs, sitting on them wordlessly. There was no easy way out, but here Keith was again at the gates.

But this time Shiro was ushering him inside.

“Was this the reason why you pulled away? Why you froze when I asked you to tell you the truth?” Keith rested his head against the window, suddenly exhausted.

Another tense silence. Several false starts in the sentence Shiro wanted to speak, sudden ends and rewrites, a clutter of black words flitting in and out of existence.

“I couldn’t bear the thought that… I had been somehow _making_ you stay with me. All this time.”

There was the root cause, cursed and decaying, infecting everything it touched.

“You haven’t.” Keith whispered, gentle and soft.

“How would you know?” Shiro twisted his face into a mockery of a smile. “For all you know, I made you speak to me the first moment we met.”

“You haven’t.” He sat up, violet eyes dark with conviction, fingers gripping the collar of Shiro’s shirt, wrinkling the perfectly formed lines. “I know you haven’t, because as stupid as this sounds Shiro, I can see into your thoughts.”

He could both feel and see the confusion, watched as Shiro soaked in the words, opened his mouth, but no words came tumbling out.

_“You couldn’t possibly-”_

“Be a mind reader.” Keith finished.

_“Are you actually-”_

“Reading your thoughts?” He couldn’t help but be a touch smug, in a way. “Yes, I am.”

Jet black were his searching eyes, as if trying to come up with something to say, or maybe even think.

Keith dragged himself backwards, one eyebrow arched ever so slightly. “You nearly burnt down the Holts’ house trying to make mac and cheese with Matt when you were ten?”

“I’ve never-”

“Told anyone about that. It was your secret with Matt, no one else was home.”

Defeated, Shiro slumped in his seat, a frown cutting across his face in grim severity. Keith knew that if he were to tell Shiro, he would have to give him the truth, from start to finish.

“Like you… I’ve always had this ability. I can see the thoughts of others like little black words. Words spoken usually take on a different color entirely.” He hesitated, wondering what the right way to tell him would be. “Your words were always black… the color of complete honesty, only seen when someone speaks their most sincere thoughts. It drew me to you.”

Keith could see that Shiro had clasped his hands together, knuckles white.

“I felt comfortable with you, because I always knew you were telling me the truth. It was something I thought I would never experience in my life.”

“But on that night, what color was I?”

A hitched breath, and Keith knew Shiro would drive the sword right into the heart of the problem.

“Silver.”

Shiro let out a strangled noise, the reality settling into him. “And you asked me to tell you the truth, but instead of telling you, I drove you further away.”

“With reason, I now know.”

The lapsed into silence, unsure of what to say next. Keith peered outside the car window, realized the sun was still high in the sky, bright light beating down on the sidewalk, the minerals in the concrete glittering like shards of gemstones.

“When you use your Suggestion, Shiro, your words are gold.”

He peered at Keith, a murderer plagued with guilt for his crimes, waiting for the ghost of his victim to come and exact revenge. Now that he was here, Shiro was waiting for a death sentence, one that Keith refused to ever give.

“I’ve only ever seen it once before today. When you told me to leave your apartment.”

“Bullshit.” Shiro breathed.

He looked at him, intensity in his very bones. “Of all people in this world, I’m pretty sure that you can trust me on this.”

“Bullshit.” Shiro repeated, this time, the faintest sound of relief.

“Shit, maybe. But not bullshit.” Keith took his hand in his, rubbed circles against his palm with his thumb. Like they used to on Saturday nights, slumped on the couch taking in multilayered desserts on television. “I’ve been told I’m very good at reading people.”

It was as if a dam had burst, long overdue fear and frustration flowed out of Shiro’s shoulders, the smile he returned to Keith lighter than anything he had seen before.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“I wouldn’t dream of lying to you.”

“Are you going to keep making awful puns like this?”

“You could always make me stop.”

“Don’t.” Shiro chuckled. “Never, I’d never do that to you.”

Keith dared to reach out to him, brushing the white bangs out of his face, fingers fluttering over his cheekbone. Shiro closed his eyes, leaned into his touch, a low noise of appreciation.

“...I guess we do have to thank Allura.” Muffled came his words as he pressed his mouth against the palm of Keith’s hand.

“Don’t you dare say her name. She’ll hear us and we’ll never live it down” Keith hissed. “I honestly don’t know why she’s so invested.”

“From what she told me, she believes we’re fated.” A bit of a self deprecating smirk wore on his face. “She said she’d like to write a novel based on us. Star-crossed lovers in space.”

“Not star-crossed.” He replied. “Stupid-crossed, maybe.”

Shiro’s own arm lifted, hand resting on Keith’s before encircling his wrist, drawing him in. Their lips brushed, unsure before pressing closer together, their bodies falling naturally into each other’s touch, familiar and so haltingly new all at once. They sought each other out, questions always returned with answers, clearer and firmer with each kiss.

“Where do we go from here?” Keith asked when they finally broke for air, Shiro’s hands around his waist, and his leg digging uncomfortably into the cup holder.

Shiro looked unwilling to let Keith go any further than that, his hold on him keeping him in place. His mouth traced the line of his neck before he spoke. “I’d like us to start over, no secrets.”

He pressed their foreheads together, and Keith found himself gazing at his pure black words, found himself able to rest himself in it.

“Would you like that too?”

Keith grinned, a little cheekily.

“Shiro, you didn’t even have to ask.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's Context!! Thank you so so much for being with me every step of the way. The response to part one was incredible, and I wanted to make sure I could do the second part justice. 
> 
> I'm not quite done with this universe yet, to be honest. I do have one other story to tell, and whenever that comes around, I hope you all have a good time with Keith and Shiro. 
> 
> It was a rocky start, but I think they'll realize they're more meant for each other than they could have imagined, abilities and all. 
> 
> Thank you once again. 
> 
> P.S. Allura definitely has a unique talent of her own. What it might be, I don't think she'll ever tell.


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